The Return of Shadow
by UL-532
Summary: Amid strange goings on at Hogwarts, two enemies grow closer, and only they hold the key to preventing the return of the greatest Dark Wizard in history. Can they put aside their differences and save the world before it is too late?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So here it is, the long story that my other one fits into. Please R&R, as all good feedback is appreciated. Without further ado, here's _The Return of Shadow_.

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><p><strong>Prologue: Another Perfect Summer<strong>

The sun shone brightly on a clear July afternoon, the weather the perfect mix of heat and wind to give all those who stood beneath the sky the tenderness of a warm embrace. The rolling meadows were green with the summer grasses, long and wild. Bees and butterflies fluttered about, lazy and anxious. The trees were full and lively, their foliage much the same color as the long grass beneath them. In the semi-dense tree line, the ground was covered with rotted bark and old leaves left over from seasons past, and cloaked in shade. Beneath the canopy the air was at least a few degrees cooler than in the sun, giving many a chill, even on one of the hotter days of the summer. The landscape was peaceful, perfect; save for the yells of many redheaded people flitting about the air on broomsticks.

"Oi, Rose, lookout!" one of them shouted. Another girl, hovering before three weathered wooden circles on posts high above the ground, takes notice and quickly adjusted her altitude to narrowly miss a small ball sailing through the air, which quickly alters its trajectory after the near-collision, headed back towards the larger group of people. But the distraction caused by the ball has allowed a boy with messy black hair and rectangular glasses to lob a larger red ball through one of the hoops. He raised his balled fists above his head, celebrating his triumph before saluting the girl guarding the hoops and speeding off to retrieve the ball.

"Lucky score, you bloody tosser!" the girl yelled after the boy. He laughed as he returned with his ball, ready to reenter play, before a loud horn sounds; a lithe girl, younger than the first, held a small golden ball with gossamer wings above her head as her fellow teammates clapped for her. The first girl looked to the boy with a triumphant smirk as he felt and increasing urge to lob the large red ball at her. With the game concluded, the fourteen players descended to the ground, landing with loud thumps. The winners then hoist the smaller girl onto their shoulders as they all walked toward a large house of dubious construction, singing in unison, though off key, Weasley is our king!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So here's the real first chapter; how I wish FF had a prologue feature. I'd love to hear from you, so please read and review. Yay rhymes. I promise I will upload the next snapshot for _Close Encounters_ real soon.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Party Hearty<strong>

The hot July sun shone on Rose Weasley's back as she and her cousins made their way back to the Burrow after a fun pick-up game of quidditch. Though, it wasn't deathly hot as some summers were wont to be, with a slight breeze causing the sweat on the surface of her body to evaporate, removing excess heat from her immediate surroundings. Just ahead of her, her older cousins Fred and Louis had her younger cousin Lily atop their shoulders, while the rest of them sang the family standard, "Weasley is Our King", a matter that Rose found ironic considering the origins of the song and it's original intent to discourage, and for the fact that Lily's last name was Potter, though you couldn't tell by looking at her, as she was a spitting image of Rose's aunt Ginny, who was also Lily's mother. Thanks to Lily's more than decent seeker skills (having two star seekers for parents, one of whom played professionally, never hurt) she was able to make a most ridiculous catch while flying upside-down mere centimeters above the grass, and win the game for their team, even though she preferred beater, a position she had held since third year on the house team, alongside Rose's brother Hugo.

Now there was a pair.

From what her parents had told her, Hugo and Lily were much like her uncles George and Fred in their time at school (her father sounded proud while her mother sounded exasperated), which just made her feel sad that she could never see the twins in action. If their pranks were even half as good as they were in the stories her father told her, it would have been quite the sight. Behind her, still fuming was her cousin Albus; though he was one of the few in the family that hadn't played quidditch at school, as it wasn't his thing, he put on a remarkably good game today. He had managed seven (seven!) goals against her, which just made Rose realize how rusty the summer had made her normally impenetrable wall of defense; in the four years she had been Gryffindor's keeper, she had held to less than five goals in every game. And now that she was going to be team captain, she was going to lose some practice time to strategizing; her cousin James may have been a competent chaser and excellent at boosting team morale, but a tactician he was not. His playbook had been simple and quite thin, as he preferred brute force to guile, which had only made it easier for opponents to read his plays. It had cost them more than one game in his two years as captain, though they had still won the Cup last year. But now she had the perfect (and only) opportunity to keep it, as many of her fellows (including those in her family) supposed that she would continue James' non-strategy strategy. She figured she could snatch an early game or two by confusing the hell out of her opponents before they caught on to her brilliance.

They had finally left the long grass and hopped the fence to enter the Burrow's neatly trimmed lawn; she never saw a lawnmower (an intact one anyway), but figured there must be a spell to either trim it or slow its growth. As the rounded the makeshift house, they caught sight of the large white marquee that her grandparents kept for occasions such as these, which by all appearances had just finished being raised by the adults present around the perimeter. Tossing her broom to Albus to put in the shed, as was the losers duty, Rose as stealthily as possible began to charge at her father before she tackled him to the ground. He let out a yelp of surprise as they fell, Rose having hit him in his side completely by surprise. Those who witnessed her attack began to laugh, her uncle George guffawing and slapping his knee. Her father looked at her with a death glare before smiling and grabbing her fiercely and using her one and only weakness. His hands found the most sensitive spots and began to let loose a fury of tickles. She was frozen in place by his strong arms as he tortured her into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Then she snorted and was mortified as everyone began to laugh at her. Her father finally relented and pulled himself and Rose to their feet before kissing her atop her head and smiling. Rose mock punched him in the shoulder, though she put a little force behind it for making her snort. Git.

Rose turned from her father and entered the Burrow, going to the kitchen to begin gathering dishes and flatware. She was joined a moment later by her "cousin" Teddy, who was sporting light blue hair (she wondered whether it was that color when he went to work) that was reminiscent of the sky. He looked good, his time abroad having given him a worldly sense. In the seven years since his graduation from Hogwarts, he had been working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry, which had sent him to numerous foreign lands to foster good relations with other governments directly. He had managed to attain a senior position last month as Diplomatic Advisor to the Minister for Magic and would finally be living permanently in Britain again. Idly, she thought of her cousin Victorie, with whom Teddy had shared a long and fiery romance through their school years; it had ended when Teddy got the job at the Ministry and spent eighteen months in Albania before he got to come home. Their relationship had survived separation for a school term, but not such an extended time apart.

But, something had changed, Rose knew. Teddy was in a weird mood today; he was almost always smiling, but today he was positively grinning at everything that moved. She could have put a Blast-ended Skrewt in his hands and he would've been just as likely to hug it as to drop it. Seeing this, she had, in her oh-so-nonchalant way snuck in a few questions to Albus about Teddy, namely whether he was staying at Albus' house because Teddy had only arrived back in the country last week and had not gotten a proper flat yet. When Albus had answered in the negative, her suspicions grew. As she mulled, she was absent-mindedly collecting forks. She was broken from her reverie by the sound of the kitchen door opening. She looked up to see Victorie walk in. She walked over to the sink to fetch herself a glass of water from the tap. When they thought Rose wasn't looking, she and Teddy stole glances at one another trading knowing looks and little smirks.

"I knew it!" Rose shouted at them, somewhat accusingly. Victorie had a look of surprised confusion on her face, while Teddy looked bemused. She pointed a finger at them accusingly. "Those looks, Teddy's dumbass grinning," she said as she narrowed her eyes, "You're liv…" Fast as lightning Teddy was behind her with his hand clamped over her mouth, which she angrily mumbled against while Victorie nervously looked about for extendable ears.

"Merlin, Rosie, can you talk any louder?" he asked in a dangerously quiet tone. "I don't think they heard you in America." He released her and went to stand over by Victorie, both of them looking at her expectantly. She simply smiled a knowing smile.

"Oh, you two," she began, "good for you. I'm really happy to see you back together, but if I may?" She moved closer and fixed them with a penetrating stare, "I was able to figure it out in no time, and there aren't many dense people in this family. Someone else will figure it out too." She leaned against the kitchen table with her arms crossed as she finished. Teddy's reply came in a hushed tone.

"Well, as far as anyone is concerned I'm staying at a Muggle inn in Devon until I get a flat of my own," he said quite proudly. "They'll be none the wiser." Rose slowly shakes her head to avoid laughing.

"So, what happens when you never get a flat because you already found a nice warm bed," she said cheekily. "I mean, what if Aunt Fleur just happens to drop in on her eldest daughter," she cringed as illustration. "That would be one awkward conversation." At this point most of the color had drained from Teddy and Victorie's faces.

"One little mistake…" Teddy groaned while Victorie growled in frustration. Apparently romance even made older people think and act like stupid teenagers, which was perhaps the most redundant phrase Rose had ever thought: stupid teenagers. The opening of the kitchen door ended their conversation, as James poked his head inside.

"What is taking so bloody long!" he exclaimed. "You've got loads of hungry Weasleys out here, and Merlin knows the only thing more dangerous than a dark wizard is a Weasley that hasn't eaten in six hours." He moved inside to grab a stack of plates as Rose followed him with the rest, leaving Teddy and Victorie standing nervously. Rose shut the door behind her stepping out once again into the summer heat; though Grandma Molly had been against it initially, Grandpa Arthur had convinced her to let him install a Muggle air conditioner onto the Burrow, needless to say, her resistance disappeared the first day it was over thirty degrees. The marquee was filled with a long table and chairs to seat the whole of the Weasley clan. Rose deposited a plate at each seat as she moved along one side of the table while James did the same down the other side.

"So what were you three talking about in there?" James asked conspiratorially. Rose sighed before replying.

"Teddy's living with Victorie," she said quietly, "and neither of them have really thought ahead as to their situation. I think they've been spending a little too much time shagging and not enough time talking." James just shrugged and thought a moment before he responded.

"They'll get it together. They had a lot of missed time to catch up on. Just glad to see they stopped being thick and realized they were made for each other." He finished his row of plates and walked around the end of the table to stand close to Rose. "Besides," he laughed, "it's not like this family is so old fashioned to begin with; both our parents lived together before they married."

"I guess you're right," Rose said with a smile, "I was more worried about them getting caught in the lie than anything else." She finished her plates and punched James in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelled, rubbing his shoulder, "What the hell was that for?"

"Being a twat," she said with a giant grin plastered on her face. In all honesty he was not hurt, but James never missed an opportunity to ham it up. Hence when he fell to the ground complaining of his now non-functional arm that would have to be amputated, Rose was not about to buy whatever brand of manure he was selling. She walked out from under the marquee, leaving the great Method actor to his work, and took in the bright sun on her face. The rest of her family was playing around the massive yard while her mother and Uncle Harry showed her grandfather how to operate the Muggle gas grill that he insisted they use to make hamburgers. Her grandmother looked on as she knit something, tuting away as she shook her head. Rose's grandmother amazed her, who, in her seventies, still knit jumpers for every child and grandchild for Christmas. Rose wondered if her mother would carry on the tradition until she recalled her mother's attempts at knitting, which according to her father were just as bad as they were when they were in school, so the term not bloody likely was most apt to describe the chances of that ever happening.

Rose joined her favorite (though she would never admit it) cousin under the shade of a large, ancient oak tree. Albus had his nose deep in a book, as usual. He had to be the brightest in their year, at least, and was a house prefect. No one knew if he would be Head Boy also, but there was a significant chance; very few students were as well liked and well respected as Albus was. It seemed he was destined to be the peacemaker, not caring much for house affiliations outside of friendly competitiveness. His circle of friends included students of every house, and he spent most of his leisure time with a study group he had formed. The rest of it was split between Rose and _him_ – Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, Rose's nemesis, her archenemy, the locus of her ire. It did not matter to her that those three terms meant essentially the same thing. He was beyond a single modifier. Though she had yet to prove it (much to her chagrin) she knew instinctively that he was evil. His father was evil; his grandfather was evil, all the way back the bloody history of the Malfoy line lived evil. The worst kind of bigots, the most hateful of racists – and he was one of them. He had to be; else her life would have no meaning. Sometimes it drove Rose crazy, thinking she was the only sane person in her family, the only one who could see that Malfoy was up to something.

Albus was the worst offender, who actually carried on a friendship with the little weasel, at Uncle Harry's urging no less. Could he not even see the danger of allowing the proverbial snake in the garden? She supposed it was to be expected, as he was always vigilant for Voldemort's return. Some things would be missed. So it was her duty to safeguard the whole wizarding world from any attempts by the Malfoy family to resurrect the Dark Lord. They had tried before, and they would try again. She wondered if this was like the burden Uncle Harry had carried with him during his school years. Albus got plenty of grief about his relationship from the rest of their cousins, whose opinions on Malfoy ranged from 'neutral' to 'loathe'; though only Rose and James had ever confronted Malfoy directly, Hugo and Lily made him a regular target of their pranks. The older ones had not really bothered much with Malfoy, as his father was only the direct enemy of Rose's parents and Uncle Harry. Needless to say, there was quite the bit of bad blood between the Malfoys and the Weasleys.

Albus closed his book deliberately and playfully thwacked Rose upside the head with his free hand, to which she responded by not pulling her punch as it connected with his arm. He only laughed as he rubbed his injury absently. "'Twas a good game we had today, cuz," he laughed, "almost won too." He shook his fist toward where his little sister sat whispering with Hugo. She noticed, flipped him the bird and stuck out her tongue as Hugo laughed beside her.

Rose shook her head at him, "It was not; I nearly gave up more goals than I did all season last year," she sighed. "I really need to work on my lower ring coverage, and everyone knows my right is my weak side." She looked up at Albus, his lanky height dwarfing her even while they sat, "I mean, I have to be _really_ terrible if _you_ could score against me."

Albus rolled his eyes at her obvious baiting, "Nice try Rosie," he grinned down at her, "I have no compunctions about my terrible quidditch skills, unlike my blood relatives, who all have the 'quidditch mania' gene." He had that right. Both James and Lily could be honestly described as fanatics, much like their parents. But James, like Rose's father, was a hopeless romantic and rooted for the Chudley Cannons every time and was perennially disappointed. Needless to say, there was plenty of sibling animosity between aunt Ginny and Rose's father due to her aunt's earlier career with the Holyhead Harpies, when she went to great lengths to destroy the Cannons in every encounter for seven years. In fact, those were the Cannons' worst seven seasons on record, with more per-season shutouts than their historical average of five. Most of the Weasley clan took great pleasure in ragging on the Cannons, so much so that they had all (save James) dressed in aunt Ginny's jersey for her father's birthday last year. He had gotten so red in the face that he challenged his sister to a foolish exercise, where he would play keeper while she played chaser in a one-on-one. Rose's mother had attempted to stop him, but he was determined. In the end, aunt Ginny had scored thirty goals while her dad had blocked zero. It was like a Cannons-Harpies game all over again. Only her mother and James had comforted him in his not-surprising-at-all defeat.

Rose was broken from her reverie by the smell of cooked food, which had wafted its way across the yard to where they were sitting. Her eyes instantly found their way to the grill where her grandfather stood with slightly singed eyebrows putting burgers onto buns. She was up in a second and made a beeline for the food, leaving Albus in her dust. She did not hear Albus call after her in an urgent voice. She had nearly reached the grill when she collided with a well-built frame. She fell to ground in a heap, the wind knocked out of her. The glare of the sun obscured the face of the obstacle, until he leaned over her face. The first thing she noticed was the blonde hair, which could only belong to her cousin Louis, but he was too tall to be Louis and his head the wrong shape, and his hair the wrong length. She snarled as she realized that she had been knocked over by none other than Scorpius Malfoy wearing a shirt that was criminally tight. He extended a hand to her before saying innocently,

"Need a hand Weasley?"


End file.
